I waved him to silence, and stood staring at Jerome.
'Why do you abuse me, Jerome of London? They say you are mad. Are you? Would madness be your defence were I to have your arse hauled off to the Tower for your treasonable talk?'
'I would make no defence, crookback. I would be glad to have the chance to be what I should have been before, a martyr for God's Church. I shit on King Henry's name and his usurpation of the pope's authority.' He laughed bitterly. 'Even Martin Luther disowns King Henry, did you know? He says Junker Heinz will end by making himself God.'
Mark gasped. Those words alone were enough to have Jerome executed.
'Then how you must burn with shame that you took the oath acknowledging the king's supremacy,' I said quietly.
Jerome reached for his crutch and rose painfully from the bed. He tucked the crutch under his arm and began slowly pacing the cell. When he spoke again it was in a quiet, steely tone.
'Yes, crookback. Shame and fear for my eternal soul. Do you know who my family are? Did they tell you that?'
'I know you are related to Queen Jane, God rest her.'
'God will not rest her. She burns in hell for marrying a schismatic king.' He turned and faced me. 'Shall I tell you how I came to be here? Shall I put a case to you, master lawyer?'
'Yes, tell me. I shall sit to listen.' I lowered myself onto the hard bed. Mark remained standing, hand on sword, as Jerome dragged himself slowly up and down the room.
'I left the world of idle show when I was twenty. My late second cousin was not born then, I never met her. I lived over thirty years in peace at the London Charterhouse; a holy place, not like this soft corrupted house. It was a haven, a place devoted to God in the midst of the profane city.'
'Where wearing hair shirts was part of the Rule.'
'To remind us always that flesh is sinful and corrupt. Thomas More lived with us four years. He wore the hair shirt ever after, even under his robes of state when he was lord chancellor. It helped keep him humble, and steadfast unto death when he stood out against the king's marriage.'
'And before, when he was lord chancellor and burning all the heretics he could find. But you were not steadfast, Brother Jerome?'
His back stiffened, and when he turned I expected another outburst. But his voice remained calm.
'When the king said he required an oath from all members of the religious houses acknowledging him as Supreme Head of the Church, only we Carthusians refused, though we knew what that would mean.' His eyes burned into me.
'Yes. All the other houses took the oath, but not you.'
'There were forty of us, and they took us one by one. Prior Houghton first refused the oath and was interrogated by Cromwell himself. Did you know, Commissioner, when Father Houghton told him that St Augustine had placed the authority of the Church above Scripture, Cromwell replied that he cared naught for the Church and Augustine might hold as he pleased?'
'He was right. The authority of Scripture stands above that of any scholar.'
'And the opinion of a tavern keeper's son stands above St Augustine's?' Jerome laughed bitterly.